Composing a Family

by Sean Michael

  “That’s great! When you can follow your bliss, it’s a good thing.”

  “It is. It really is. Why did you decide to become a nanny?”

  “Well, I was a camp counselor and I really enjoyed it. Then when I came out, my folks wanted nothing to do with me. They kicked me out. I needed a job, and when I found the Wilsons, it seemed like they were heaven sent. I was with them until less than a year ago.”

  “Wow. So your whole life, pretty much. I hope you find it okay here.”

  “So far it’s been an easy job. A great job. I have to admit that having carte blanche on spending to make this place kid-ready has been a lot of fun.”

  “I work hard and I was lucky. I had a huge nest egg to start on.”

  “I wasn’t judging,” he promised.

  “I do. I have guilt sometimes.”

  “Yeah?” He tried to figure out if he would have guilt if he had a lot of money or not. “How so?”

  “Just that I had help, you know? I didn’t have to scrabble to make ends meet; I just had to learn my craft.”

  “Well, I would say that you were lucky and shouldn’t feel guilty for that, but you only had that money because you lost your parents. That’s not lucky at all. I don’t think you have anything to feel guilty about.”

  “Thanks. It doesn’t matter one way or the other, right? It is what it is.”

  “Yeah, exactly. So feeling guilty about it is irrelevant.” He gave Daniel a wink. “Anyway. Like I said, I’ve been enjoying the job so far, and I can’t wait to meet the kiddies. They’re going to be amazing.” He was sure of it.

  “We’ll have to see. They won’t even have personalities for a while, right?”

  “No, they will! It’s totally amazing how much of their personalities they’re born with. Some babies are timid, some are happy, some are grumpy, some bold. And they’re born with it and manifest it right from the beginning. That’s how we’ll be able to tell the girls apart.” It had always truly amazed him how much of their own person each baby was.

  “I hope so. What if I name them and then discover in ten years I’ve messed them up?”

  “Are you planning to name them Toaster, Violin, and Eggplant?”

  “Huh? Seriously?”

  “Well, then, I don’t think you’re going to discover in ten years that you’ve messed them up because of what you named them.”

  “Oh.” Daniel began to laugh, the sound just merry.

  He grinned. Laughter did look good on Daniel, and he was pleased that he was the one to bring it out in the man.

  This was the best night he’d had since he’d come here, the first time he’d felt like they could be a family.

  “Say, did you want to come up to my room and play some Outbreak or something? I’ve got several cooperative games.”

  “Sure. Sure, why not? I’m not sleepy yet.” The easy answer pleased him.

  “Cool.” He got up and stretched.

  “Thanks.”

  “Oh, you’re welcome. It’ll be fun to play together.”

  “Usually that means something else for me.”

  He shot Daniel a look—was the man flirting with him? Then he realized Daniel meant music and he chuckled. “I bet.”

  “Yeah. Exactly.” Daniel grinned over.

  He flicked the light on his sitting room, wondering what Daniel would think of his changes. He still had the leather love seat, but he’d also picked up a matching easy chair. He’d painted the walls. Three were navy blue and one was pink. He’d wanted to do something for the girls.

  He had a bookcase full of books, and a computer on the little table in the corner.

  Daniel looked around, frowning deeply, then shook his head. “That’s sort of weird. You painted the same blue as my rooms.”

  “Yeah?” He chuckled. “It’s a good blue. I did the light pink in the girls’ honor. Watch, they’ll all like blue better.”

  “I’m sure. Blue is amazing.”

  “Yeah, it is. My bedroom is the same color.” He grabbed the controllers and handed one over to Daniel, then sat on the love seat and grabbed the remote to turn on the TV.

  “Are you competitive?” Daniel asked him.

  “I can be. We’re going to play cooperatively this time, though, right?”

  “Yes.” Daniel smiled at him, nodded.

  “Okay. Let’s be competitive together against someone else!” He laughed and loaded the game, made sure they were connected to the net, and put them out to be available for a game. “You want to practice while we wait for other players?”

  “Sure. Yeah. I don’t want to embarrass you.”

  “Stop it—you’re not going to embarrass me. Have you played this one before?” He’d assumed Daniel had because he said he gamed sometimes. Still, winning didn’t matter, it was the companionship and getting to know each other that did.

  “Maybe? I mostly do strategy games…”

  “There’s a fair bit of strategy in it. And the movements are fairly standard.” He explained what buttons moved your character and which ones ran the weapons and soon enough they were playing. Daniel either had played it before or was a quick study because he was doing well in no time at all.

  Better than that, there was the ease with which they worked together. That boded well. Daniel would pick up the enemies that he missed and vice versa. It was grand.

  They played together just the two of them, and then they picked up a game against some other players on the internet, working well together, laughing and having the best time.

  Soon it was close to midnight and Daniel yawned. “Five is early, huh? Really.”

  “You can’t sleep in one day?” He couldn’t help but think that Daniel’s strict schedule was going to be shot to hell by the triplets.

  “I guess no one would notice. No one but me.”

  “And you don’t give yourself a weekend or a break now and then?” He’d been taking Monday and Tuesday off the two weeks he’d been here. Not that he’d had such a busy schedule the rest of the days he was working. But those were the days he slept in and did whatever he felt like. Next week he had plans for lunch on Monday—getting together with a few of the nannies from his old neighborhood. He felt some sympathy for Daniel. The guy seemed lonely.

  “No, I love my work. I’m always in that space.”

  “I love my work too, but I still like some time off.” He shrugged. “Whatever works for you, man. You do know that babies will screw with your schedule, eh?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be all party pooper.”

  “Nah—if you need to get to bed, you need to get to bed. It was a good time, though, wasn’t it?” He offered Daniel a warm grin.

  “It really, really was. I’d like to do it again if you would.”

  He was more than pleased by the request. “Yeah, I definitely would.”

  “Me too.” Daniel reached over and shook Ten’s hand.

  A handshake? He used the connection to tug Daniel toward him and gave him a hug, a good, long one. Daniel took a deep breath, then hugged him back.

  The guy was more solid than he looked and he was a better hugger than Ten had anticipated. He approved. Ten liked the contrast between Daniel’s delicate appearance and his hidden strength.

  He realized suddenly that he’d been hugging his boss for far too long and he wasn’t sure how to let go without it being super awkward.

  It then became apparent Daniel was asleep, breathing slow and easy, resting against him. Oh man, that was… really kind of adorable, actually.

  He moved slowly, managing to get Daniel back onto the love seat without waking him up. Then he draped a cover over him. He hoped it wasn’t too uncomfortable for Daniel, what with the way his feet were hanging over the edge of the seat, but the only other solution was putting Daniel in his bed, and even tho
ugh it was huge, he didn’t think it was a great idea. He wanted to keep this job.

  Daniel settled in with a soft little sigh.

  He fought the urge to kiss Daniel’s forehead, but he did whisper, “Good night, dear prince,” before moving into his room and going to bed.

  Chapter Four

  Daniel woke up falling to the floor with a gasp, confused and lost. What the fuck?

  Was he in a hotel?

  Was he travelling?

  The door burst open, a disheveled Tenor appearing, wearing nothing more than a pair of boxers riding low on his hips. “What? Daniel? Hey, are you okay, man?”

  “I—” He blinked. “Where am I?”

  “In my sitting room. You fell asleep and I didn’t have the heart to wake you up. Looks like you fell off the love seat. Are you okay?” Tenor bent, hands moving on him.

  “Sorry. Sorry, I’m fine. I just… was confused.”

  “And you fell. That’s never pleasant.” Tenor got an arm around him and helped him up.

  He was propped up against Tenor. And that was a lot of skin. Warm skin.

  “I just fell asleep? Just boom?”

  “Yeah. I guess you really meant it when you said it was past your bedtime, eh?” Tenor gave him a wry grin.

  And he was still leaning against the warm muscles. “I’m sorry. How embarrassing.”

  Tenor chuckled. “Don’t be embarrassed—I’ve had much worse done to me.”

  “I just… wow. I must trust you.” He winked, trying to keep it light.

  “That’s good because I’m going to be taking care of your babies. And by extension, you.”

  “Yes. And I guess I’ll be taking care of you.”

  Delight filled Tenor’s face. “Nobody’s taken care of me for a very long time.”

  “That only seems fair.” They were going to be family, right?

  “Well, I like it.” Tenor glanced over at the clock on the cable box. “It looks like the perfect time for a midnight snack. You want cookies and hot cocoa?”

  He blinked. Seriously? People did that? “Why not?”

  “Good answer—I happen to be a cookies and hot cocoa expert.”

  “I will have to learn all about it.”

  “You definitely should—they’re a great conversation opener with kids.”

  “Aren’t they supposed to be asleep at this time of night?”

  “Yeah, but if they’re not, it’s either because of bad dreams or something is bothering them. And the hot milk helps get them sleepy again and feels safe and comforting and helps them talk about what’s bothering them.”

  “Yeah. I can get that, I think.”

  They headed downstairs into the kitchen, the lights on low.

  Tenor moved efficiently, filling two mugs with milk, then pouring the liquid into a saucepan and putting the heat on low. Then he grabbed some cocoa and brown sugar and a little bit of water, putting it all together in a little saucepan and putting that on the heat, too. “You want to find some cookies? There’s a couple of the chocolate chip left, and I made oatmeal ones this morning.”

  “With raisins?” He loved raisins.

  “It’s not oatmeal cookies if there aren’t any raisins.” Tenor laughed softly and pointed to a cookie jar shaped like a giant chocolate chip cookie that he’d never seen before.

  “That’s a cookie jar.” How cool.

  “Yeah, and it’s a thick plastic that won’t break if it gets pulled down off the counter.”

  “I like it.” It was a bright splash, something… new.

  “Good deal. I’d like one chocolate chip and one oatmeal, please.” Tenor began stirring, both hands working circles in their respective pans.

  “Okay. Sure.” He pulled out two of each. “You like to cook, I guess?”

  “Yeah, I enjoy it. And I think it’s good for kids to see cooking. That’s how they’ll learn because they’ll want to help way earlier than they’ll actually be a help.” Tenor laughed. “But you’ve got to let them, you know? Because if you don’t, when you actually let them, they’re not going to want to anymore. I tell you what, though—when your girls get here, I will totally eat everything your chef cooks.”

  “The food is really edible. I love the different pastas.” It was a necessary indulgence. He didn’t cook.

  “So, do we put in ‘orders’ with him? Get him to prep what we’d like?” Tenor looked bemused by the whole thing.

  “Totally. I ask for Greek pasta salad a lot.” Chickpeas, olives, chicken, spice—yum.

  “You really are a pasta fan. That’s cool. There’s all sorts of pasta meals that are easy for little ones to help with. And as they get a little older, it can be their first meals.”

  “I can’t even imagine them being here, much less eating noodles.”

  “It feels kind of abstract still, eh?” Tenor pulled the cocoa mixture off the heat and kept stirring the milk.

  “Yeah.” It felt like a dream or a fantasy or something. Most of the time it felt like a lie.

  “It’ll seem real soon enough.” Laughing, Tenor poured the cocoa mix into the milk, whisking hard.

  “That’s true.” He hoped so. Somehow he doubted it, but surely that was just nerves.

  Tenor poured the cocoa into two mugs, then rinsed the pots and put them in the dishwasher.

  “Ta-da! Hot cocoa.”

  “Wow. Impressive.” He handed over the cookies.

  In turn, Tenor handed over one of the mugs. “Do you think you should drink this upstairs in your rooms in case you fall asleep right away?”

  “Oh.” Right. He’d woken the man up, had him make food like a spoiled brat. “I should, yes. I’m really, genuinely sorry to have woken you.”

  “It wasn’t a problem. Not the first time, won’t be the last. And if it’s not too forward of me, I’d love to come with you, talk over our cocoa like we should.”

  Did that happen? He supposed if Tenor thought it could, it was okay. “Sure. Come on up.”

  Tenor’s smile said he’d made the right decision. He led Tenor upstairs, all the way to his third-floor suite. Tenor was clearly curious, taking everything in.

  His rooms were blue and cozy and masculine and wonderful. Private and his.

  Smiling, Tenor looked over at him. “I like it. Feels very authentic.”

  “I spend a lot of time here.” He had a sitting area, but it wasn’t separated from the bedroom like Tenor’s was, and his had an upright piano in the corner.

  Tenor wandered around, looking at everything, then sat on the couch, sitting back, relaxing.

  He sat too, turning the stereo on low, filling the room with Mozart’s Symphony no. 15 in G major. It was so joyful, so happy-making.

  Tenor smiled wide. “Oh, this is nice.”

  “Thank you. I love it up here.”

  “I can see why.” Tenor sipped his cocoa and closed his eyes, humming along to the music.

  “Yeah.” He ate a cookie, then curled into the corner of the sofa.

  It was different, having someone up here with him, but he kind of liked it.

  He didn’t know what to say, but he didn’t feel like he had to say anything either. He hadn’t been able to just sit in silence with anyone except Matt. Usually it felt uncomfortable and like he had to fill the quiet with conversation. He didn’t with Tenor.

  The cocoa was delicious, rich and thick and comforting.

  Tenor offered him a grin. “Do I make great cocoa or what?”

  “It’s sort of amazing. An addiction.”

  Tenor looked very pleased with his reply. “Can you imagine talking to your kids over a mug of this? It cures a lot of ills.”

  Could he? He didn’t know. He thought he maybe could.

  “It’ll make you sleepy, too—just you drink it and see.”

&n
bsp; “It’s lovely. You did it like it was so easy.”

  Tenor shifted and nodded. “I’ve made it a few hundred times. Maybe even a couple thousand times. So it is easy for me. I could teach you if you want.”

  “Sure, although there’s something wonderful about someone caring enough to make something for you.” It had surprised and pleased him that Tenor had.

  “How about I teach you so you can give that feeling to your girls, but I will still make you cocoa anytime you need it.”

  “That’s an incredibly kind offer, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” Tenor took another mouthful of his cocoa, then his first bite of the chocolate chip cookie. “I believe in working with the parents of my kids. We’re a team and the more we can support each other, the better we can give the kids what they need. I think that goes double when it’s a single parent.”

  “Yes. That’s the goal. The family.”

  “If they take after you, they’re going to be gorgeous kids,” Tenor noted.

  “I—” He hoped they looked like him, at least sort of. He wanted them to be recognizable as his.

  Tenor touched his thigh, a soft poke. “You what?”

  “I don’t know. I hope you can tell they’re mine.”

  That earned him a soft chuckle. “I don’t think it’s going to matter. You’re going to love them regardless.”

  “Yes. Do you think so? Do you think it’ll be okay?” He was so worried he’d be a bad father.

  “I think you should try not to worry so much. Every parent does stuff right, and every parent does stuff wrong. We’re all only human, and as long as we do our best and love them, it’ll be okay.” Tenor took his hand and brought his cup up toward his mouth. “Drink. Relax. Breathe.”

  “Right. Relax. Drink.” Breathe. He got that. He did.

  “I know it’s way easier said than done, but worrying now about what’s going to happen later isn’t really helpful. If there’s specific areas you want more information on or want to practice, I can totally help with that. But just worrying isn’t doing anything but giving you crow’s feet. And possibly ulcers.”

  “I could rock crow’s feet.”